Overthinking: The Bane Of Every Girl’s Existence

Sooo…when are they going to create an off-button for the brain?? We have Google glasses that can tell you everything about anything by just LOOKING at it, but they haven’t created anything to help for the one thing that drives girls insane: overthinking.

“Ok, so he took 14 minutes to answer my text. Fine, I won’t text you back for 33 minutes!! HA! Take that asshole!!!!” *replies immediately*

“I’m gunna post this Snapchat story just so he sees it and so he knows how much fun I’m having without him!!!!! When he looks at it he’s totally gunna be so jealous.” “OMG HE LOOKED AT IT! SHOULD I TEXT HIM??? UGH I MISS HIM SO MUCH”

“K, so I made out with this guy last night. I was so drunk but he was a total sweetheart! I kinda creeped and found him on Facebook. Damnit, all of his pictures are him chugging Keystone Light. He’s a total douche. Oh! But look! He’s posing with a little kid in this one! He seems so nice! OMG he’s so cute!!!!! Should I friend him??”

Admit it- girls are annoying as fuck.

Overthinking gets the best of us. We wait hours for a text that may never come but then pretend we don’t care. We want to tell him how we really feel about him, but the fear of rejection prevents us from doing so. We avoid him at all costs at a party because we don’t want to come off as “psycho” but if he doesn’t approach us, we call him an “asshole” and let it ruin our night. And, God forbid if we text him first, how humiliating!! I wish I could crack the code of a girl’s brain too, but even being guilty of all of the things listed above, I don’t even understand myself sometimes.

I was tempted to title this post “Why girls are crazy.” But, I don’t think I’d call us crazy (OK, maybe there are SOME exceptions–or maybe a lot of exceptions). It’s no surprise that girls are way more emotional than guys are. We read into things that drive us absolutely crazy, but we tend to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. You could call us stupid for doing so, or you could call us compassionate. It depends on how you look at it.

I’ve had my share of hook ups, I’ve double and triple texted a guy when I was drunk, and I’ve most certainly cried over people who were never worth my time. “Hookup guy #1 didn’t text me back last weekend? Welp, guess I’ll have to delete his number, sayonara loser!!” *compulsively checks phone all night for a text and then meets up with him later* It sounds absolutely ridiculous right? Because it totally is. Is it crazy? Or is it just our tendencies to always want to feel wanted?

I feel your pain ladies. I’ve cried the tears you’ve cried. I’ve left parties where I see an ex-hook up making out with another girl even though our “dates” consisted of drunken sleepovers. I’ve sent the texts I regret in the morning. And I’ve most certainly been a victim of thinking I can make a guy fall for me even though I know he’s never planning on it. I don’t do it because I’m crazy, I do it because I’m a girl who wears my heart on my sleeve. I do it because I try and see the good in everybody, even if they give me every reason not to.

If you call me pretty, stay up all night talking to me, and kiss me on the forehead, I’m going to expect a text the next day. That doesn’t make me “clingy.” If you only text me on weekends at 2am, I’m going to know what I am to you, but I’ll probably see you anyways, even if I regret it the next morning. I’ll see you because I enjoy your company, not because I expect a dinner date the next night. If we have been “hooking up” and “talking” for months, expect me to overanalyze “what we are,” even if you don’t want a label. I’m always going to wonder if you’re thinking about me, spend countless minutes figuring out what to text you next, and tell you I never want to talk to you again, even if I don’t mean it. I’ll hate your guts but long for your texts at the same time.

We are girls. We have a “My Dream Wedding” board on Pinterest, even if the idea of marriage makes us want to puke. We tweet stupid things like, “So happy with life!” just so you’ll think we are doing just fine without you, even if it kills us inside. We love “good morning” texts, but we love morning cuddle sessions even more. We aren’t stupid. We aren’t ignorant to what you really think of us. We are loving, compassionate, human beings who tend to be a ball of emotions 87% of the time. We’re going to overthink things that you don’t understand. “Hey” “Heey” “Hi” “Yo” “Heeey” all mean different things, and we aren’t sure why. We get ourselves into shitty situations that we could’ve predicted ahead of time, but we dive into it anyways in hopes that you’ll be the exception.

I sometimes hate myself for letting things get to me so easily. And I’m sure we all do. We all wish we could think the way guys do. Having that “not give a shit” attitude would make life so much easier at times. But, don’t hate yourself too much for who you are. It’s OK to cry over that guy who treated you like crap, even though all your friends warned you about it. It’s OK to live in a fantasy world every once in a while, but don’t let yourself get into deep. Be strong, and know what is right for you. Don’t define your nights out by the guy who called you beautiful a few weekends ago. Overthink at your will, but understand it can blind you from the more important things in life. Post a Snapchat to your story to laugh about the next morning with your friends, not to get back at someone. And, I can promise you, he’s not going to notice the difference between “X-pro II” and “Lo-fi,” so just pick a goddamn Instagram filter. The amount of minutes he takes to text you back doesn’t define how he feels about you. If you want to text him, text him. If you like him, tell him. If you aren’t satisfied with being his booty call, then ask him to get coffee. They are all simple questions with simple answers, but we don’t ask because it scares us. Rejection is a harsh reality, but it’s a reality that can open a door to something even better.

We aren’t all crazy. Most of us are just vulnerable, compassionate young women who love the idea of being in love.